


The Quartet of Helpers

by Mariico



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-11-23
Updated: 2012-11-23
Packaged: 2017-11-19 08:35:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,356
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/571303
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mariico/pseuds/Mariico
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hermione gets to chose four people to help her deliver presents on Christmas Eve. The motivation? Each person who is selected receives a wand, an object that only the people in the Ministry are allowed to have.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Quartet of Helpers

**Author's Note:**

> Happy late Thanksgiving! Hope you all are fatter now. I sure am. Anyway, this is an early Christmas fic that I wrote quite a long time ago. I hope you all are well and have a happy holiday season. This is AU and may be slightly confusing to some people. Feel free to leave me a review or pop me a message and I’ll explain to the best of my ability.  
> Thanks to ozzymandius for beta’ing this for me.

Hermione Granger stared at the numerous pairs of eyes on her, most of them glaring, and she knew that this was going to be a  _very_  long month.

It was that time of year when Christmas loomed over all of their heads. This year, she was the chosen ‘Santa,’ who ran the whole operation of giving gifts to everyone in England. Last year, it had been Harry, and the year before that it had been Ron. Everyone in the ministry took turns doing it, and this was her first year in charge. Nevertheless, even with the helpful advice from both Harry and Ron, Hermione was nervous.

Traditionally, the Santa would be allotted a select group of people from which he or she would choose four people to become assistants. The four people would each receive a job, either by their own preference or the Santa’s decision. There were a lot of ways to describe the jobs, though the four of them had been shortened over the years and been given the nicknames of The Hypnotizer, The Worker, The Secretary and The Assistant. The five of them—including her—would work together to deliver all the presents to the children before they woke up.

This year, unfortunately, Hermione allotted the group known as the Slytherins. They lived in the upper eastern part of the country, and Hermione did not know of any other group that was more vicious or cunning than they were. The four groups, or Houses as they were called, alternated ‘Santa duty’ between themselves every year. The other three houses were known as Gryffindor, Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw, and Hermione knew that she would rather have any of the other three than Slytherin.

Ron got the Hufflepuffs two years ago, and he said that he had an easy time with the whole experience. The Hufflepuffs listened to him and did whatever he asked of them without any complaint, not that she had expected them to. Hermione had the pleasure of meeting a couple of Hufflepuffs a few years back, and they were the nicest people she had ever met—perhaps even a bit  _too_  nice. Harry had gotten the Ravenclaws last year, and while he said that he sometimes felt stupid because they outsmarted him, he was still fairly happy with his assigned group.

Hermione wished that she could switch years with Harry. She would have had no problem dealing with the Ravenclaws; she had actually put that house down as her number one preferred house. They resided in the lower west part of the country, and they were well known for their studious natures and intelligence. She could fit right in. She could imagine those book lovers all gathered in one place. It looked like heaven in her mind. Harry, on the other hand, had a commanding personality to him. He could deal with the Slytherins better than she could. No one would listen to her, whereas Harry could at least make people pause and turn for a while. And while Hermione didn’t think of herself as being necessarily terrible with a wand, she couldn’t deny that Harry had more experience with dueling.

 “Are you just going to stand there and stare, or are you going to do something useful?” Someone drawled from the middle of the crowd. The man who spoke was Lucius Malfoy; Hermione could recognize that blond-white hair anywhere. There were snickers around the group as all forty pairs of eyes focused on her. Hermione snapped out of her self-pitying thoughts and put on her best business face.

 “Patience is virtue, Lucius,” she told him sternly. She had spent the past few days searching up the forty people who had been assigned to her for picking, matching and memorizing each face to their names and their hobbies. Lucius Malfoy, she remembered, was there with his son and grandson as well, the three of them quite big names in the community. He was the founder of the Malfoy Enterprise and was extraordinarily rich and no doubt powerful as well.

Unfortunately for him, she was the one who had the wand, so she was the one who could tell him what to do and order him around. And while he could taunt her, it was essentially her who had the power.

Hermione had never been more thankful that she was the owner of a wand.

Hermione sighed as she looked at the group. She had been hoping there was a mistake when she looked at the list of names, but now, the proof was right in front of her. In this group of forty, there was not a single female. Not that the Slytherin women were any better, but a group full of men was fairly intimidating. Hermione knew that at least a good half of them were powerful men, all either in charge of or had founded wealthy companies. She felt slightly intimidated in their presence, but she knew that in order for this whole operation to run smoothly, she would have to just have to deal with the unfortunate little details and focus on the bigger picture.

 “I’m sure all of you know why you are here,” Hermione said in her best authoritative voice, addressing the crowd. There were a couple of sniggers; Lucius Malfoy’s the loudest of all. Hermione did her best to ignore them. It was not her job to respond to the taunts. “There is only one month left till Christmas, so we have to begin planning for that day.

“Many people think of Christmas just as a day of exchanging presents, but not many know of the hard work that needs to be put into it.” Her eyes swept over the room, stopping at Lucius for a moment. The man merely smirked at her, jutting out his chin in a sign of superiority. “Slytherin house has been chosen this year, and at the end of a three week period, I will have to select four people to help me.”

She looked around. Most of them were about her age or a generation older, but she could see some kids as well. She knew that the representatives from the houses were supposed to be chosen at random, but she couldn’t help but think that Dumbledore, the man in charge, had purposely rigged it so that she got all these powerful and difficult men. He had told her, after all, in his own coded language, that he believed that she could handle all of them with ease.

However, it didn’t mean that he should go ahead and  _do_  it. That simply was not fair to put such a big burden on her shoulders.

“Of course, this does not sound appealing to most of you,” Hermione continued, pacing around. “You may choose to leave now.  _But_ , then you’ll miss out on the prize.” She paused slightly, just to give a more dramatic effect. “The only chance you will get to hold a wand in your hand is if you are selected.”

That, Hermione decided, was the biggest key to making this whole operation work. None of the people would be motivated to become Santa’s assistant if it weren’t for the promise of receiving a wand if they were chosen. There were very few people she knew, even in the other houses, who would agree to spend so much time learning to do a particular skill if the wand wasn’t the motivator.

The wands were kept under strict watch at the Ministry, and only the people who worked there had the right to own one. All the other citizens were left waiting for Christmas to come so they would have a chance to receive one, as Christmas was the only time that anyone outside the Ministry could get a wand.

Hermione supposed that it wasn’t quite fair that she had got one while the other people had to work in order to earn one. But the people in the Ministry were all reliable and trustworthy. She couldn’t imagine what the world would be like if everyone like Lucius had a wand. No doubt he would use it to increase his power, and the world would erupt in chaos.

However, the prize seemed to do the trick; everyone seemed more agreeable after she said it. Even Lucius Malfoy didn’t seem to want to make another comment after that.

“There are four positions you can apply for,” she said. “They are known as The Hypnotizer, The Worker, The Secretary and The Assistant. Those are, at least, the shortened names for them.” It was then that Hermione noticed that while all the Slytherins sat in a group, there was one man that was an outlier.

He sat outside of the circle, leaning against the wall comfortably. He looked bored, as if this was a complete waste of time. The only reaction she saw from him was when his eyes glinted slightly at the mention of the wand. Hermione supposed that the prize was the only thing stopping him from leaving, and she immediately disliked him. She wanted someone who actually wanted to help for Christmas, and not just stay for the wand.

But then again, this was the Slytherin house they were talking about. Hermione would be surprised if there was one of them who wasn’t in this whole ordeal for the wand.

“We go outside the Hogwarts community,” she said. Hogwarts was a crest shaped area of land that contained the four houses: Gryffindor, Slytherin, Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff. Outside, there were thin slivers of land that were still in England but outside of the crest. That was where they traditionally went. That part, which was often referred to as the muggle area, did not have any knowledge about magic. All they knew was that on Christmas Eve, Santa would come and deliver presents to them.

“We spend our time in the muggle area of England,” Hermione said, and watched as a look of disgust crossed many faces. Hermione found it rather ironic; they did not have wands yet, which meant they could be considered muggles as well. They had no right to think of themselves as superior to anyone else.

Hermione had always thought that the concept of superiority coming along with magic was just silly. Just because they had a wand didn’t mean they were better. Many people at the Ministry often flaunted their power, but Hermione only used her wand when necessary, not making any more unnecessary drama. She had been fortunate to have a wand, and she wasn’t going to provoke anyone who didn’t.

“The Hypnotizer is in charge of putting everyone to sleep for one night,” she told the group, adopting her lecturing voice. She had a feeling that most of them didn’t care about what she was saying, but it was part of the requirements that she had to tell them. That, and it would save her the trouble of continuously repeating it numerous times once she began the evaluations. If they didn’t listen, it would be their fault that they didn’t know. “The Secretary is the one who receives and organizers the letters for what the kids want for Christmas. There will be a lot of paperwork and detailed note taking.” This was always the hardest job to find willing people for. Harry, of course, had had the difficulty of choosing the best person out of the entire house, as they all wanted the job. He clearly had not had the problem with dealing with shortage. However, with all the other houses, being a secretary sounded less than appealing.

“The Worker is the person who manually makes the presents,” she continued. “This job has a lot of hard work, and requires extraordinary magic skills.” Lucius Malfoy, she noted, along with some of the other wealthy company owners, were looking quite smug indeed. Hermione fought the urge to roll her eyes. Somehow, she highly doubted the Lucius Malfoy had ever worked in his life, much less do anywhere close to the amount of work the job required. She had no doubt, though, that that was the job that he would try to get. Not only because it would make him feel superior to others, but the people who applied learnt more advanced magic than all the other positions.

“Finally, there’s The Assistant, who will help me,” she said, and her statement was met by catcalls and whistling. This time, Hermione did roll her eyes; the Slytherin house was acting like a bunch of immature children. “He should preferably the most advanced in the group, and will help the others if I’m busy. He will also accompany me on Christmas Eve when I deliver the presents. Unlike the other jobs, however, there will be no specific evaluation for this particular job. I will merely take the person I think is doing the best in the group.” She then took a deep breath and looked at the group. “Any questions?”

There was a silence. And then someone, who Hermione recognized as Blaise Zabini, a boy in her year, said, “And what do we get out of this?” Besides him, his friend Draco Malfoy, Lucius’ son, was sniggering like it was the funniest thing he had ever heard.

Hermione frowned at the two of them. “I would say that the smiles on the children’s faces as you deliver the presents to them, but I don’t think that would be much motivation for you.” Blaise merely smirked and met her gaze evenly. “I’d say the wand is enough. But of course,” she said softly. “You are free to leave if you like.” She nodded towards the door.

It occurred to Hermione that she wished that the Ministry didn’t bribe the people with wands. Maybe if it wasn’t a prize, they would all just leave and she could do this whole thing by herself. She certainly wanted to. Now, she had to spend her days walking around and helping other people to do their jobs instead of doing them herself. She had no doubt that she could work much faster by herself than if she tried to train this group of greedy Slytherins to do magic that they weren’t even interested in. It was frustrating.

Unfortunately, no one moved towards the door. Hermione sighed. Her number was still at forty.

“All right,” Hermione sighed again. “We start at eight in the morning tomorrow, sharp. Don’t be late.” And with that, Hermione turned and swept out of the room, thinking about how much she wished that Christmas would just come and go quickly.

* * *

The next morning came all too quickly.

Thankfully, most of the people listened to her advice and either came right on time or even came a little earlier. Much to her relief, they did not destroy the room, but merely talked quietly to each other, shooting her an occasional look and some sniggers, which she did not mind. Lucius, she noted, came in with his son and grandson ten minutes late, interrupting the whole group. She didn’t know what kind of game he was trying to play, but it wasn’t getting him any closer to getting the wand. If he thought that he was going to impress her, he would have to seriously reconsider his actions.

She spotted the isolated man again. He had come very early, almost earlier than she had. He had just sat in the corner, and Hermione knew better than to bother someone like him. She had, however, seen a couple people approach him and exchange some words, but none of their conversations lasted for longer than a minute. There also seemed to be a dark aura hanging around him, but Hermione shrugged it off quickly, telling herself that she was working too hard and was starting to hallucinate.

She had begun her lecture when Lucius proudly swaggered into the room ten minutes late, looking quite royal and proud indeed. She glared pointedly at him as he made a show of bowing dramatically and sitting down to the applause of his house. She rolled her eyes at his unnecessary theatrics. Draco sat down proudly next to his father, and the mini version of him did as well. She remembered his name to be Scorpius. Hermione already disliked the entire family, and she made a mental note not to give them any of the positions.

“There are wands at each station,” she said. She noticed how everyone seemed to want to jump up and rush off, but she cleared her throat loudly, stopping them before they could do so. “They are all restricted so they can perform one curse and one curse only.” She almost laughed at the disappointed looks on their faces. “Today, we will start with a simple disarming spell. The word is  _expelliarmus._ ”She almost told them to repeat after her, but then told herself not to waste energy; they most likely would not, and she would only make a fool of herself.

 “I want you all to pair up with someone else,” she said strictly. “You will practice the disarming spell on each other, and if you succeed in getting your partner’s wand, I want you to  _hand it back to them._ Anyone who fails to do so will be punished and most likely sent home.” She glared at them to make sure they understood, though she had a feeling that most of the people would do it anyways. The disarming spell, thankfully, wasn’t too dangerous though, and she doubted that most people wanted to risk anything with a spell as minor as this. “Any questions?”

“Why does the Ministry have to restrict the wands?”Someone called from the back of the group, and was met by the approval of his housemates. “Why do they restrict our freedom?”

Hermione merely looked at him. “Because the people at the Ministry aren’t idiots, that’s why,” she retorted. “Do you honestly believe that you aren’t going to start abusing the power of the wand once you get it?” There was silence; though Hermione’s statements were met by many glares. “The wand is a very powerful object. If it gets in the wrong hands, the world could be in major trouble. Offering it as a prize is to ensure that only the very best will get to have one.”

 “Well then,  _Granger_ ,” Lucius sneered, “What makes you one of the best?” His eyes shamelessly roamed up and down her body, and she had the sudden urge to cover herself from his probing eyes. His lips curled into a cruel smirk as he noticed her discomfort, and he pressed on his advantage. “What gives you the right to order us around?”His eyes glinted. “You are outnumbered forty to one. What is stopping us from taking your wand from you?”

Hermione merely blinked at him, unfazed by the threat. She was quite confident in her magical abilities, and even if they upped their numbers to a hundred, she had no doubt that she could easily defeat them. There were only a few people who she believed could beat her in a duel and Lucius certainly did not come anywhere close to them. “You could try,” she said, watching the smug look slip off Lucius’ face. He had, no doubt, expected her to be terrified. Well, he would have to do a lot more to intimidate her. “I wouldn’t recommend it, though.” She shrugged. “It’s much easier to obtain a wand by properly completing the evaluation.”

She sighed when nobody moved. “If anyone wants to attack me, feel free to do so now, though keep in mind that you will be sent home as soon as you lay a hand on me. If it is not of particular interest to you, I would recommend you start to practice.” She looked pointedly at them, but still no one moved.

Hermione was beginning to wonder if she would have to drag them up one by one when, surprisingly, the isolated man stood up first and went to the table to grab his restricted wand, twirling it between his long, elegant fingers. Everyone else soon followed his example, though she did receive many glares from the group as they passed by her.

Well, as long as they were listening, Hermione supposed that she didn’t really have anything to complain about.

Truthfully, Hermione didn’t think it  _was_  right to limit the amount of people who got to have a wand. Sure, she knew that they were only trying to prevent people like Lucius from abusing his power, and she could see why the general public was so upset. After all, she herself most certainly would’ve felt that way if she had not got in tothe Ministry at such an early age.

But then, the Ministry had to keep order in the community somehow. It certainly was effective so far, but Hermione just wasn’t sure that it was the right way to go.

She decided to walk around to try to help people. There were some people who got it instantly, their partners looking rather surprised as their wands flew out of their hands. It must’ve been the first time they witnessed magic, and the sounds of ‘ooh’s and ‘aah’s filled the air. Hermione smiled to herself; it wasn’t everyday that one could see the Slytherin house act like this.

The first one to get it was the isolated man. He had been the last one to be paired up, so he ended up with a boy that looked about her age. He had sandy hair and a serious look on his face; she had not seen him talking too much either. The isolated man waved his wand elegantly, almost as if he had done it millions of times before. However, Hermione knew that was not possible; there was no way he could’ve got a wand.

The sandy haired man merely stared as his wand was caught by his partner. He did not look impressed or fazed, which surprised Hermione a little; she would’ve expected at least some form of shock or delight, but there was nothing. The isolated man also didn’t appear to be too surprised that he had accomplished the task, and gave the wand back to his partner. The sandy haired boy didn’t thank him, and instead just waved his wand lazily, speaking the incantation.

Much to Hermione’s surprise, he knew how to do it as well.

The isolated man merely nodded and stepped away, blending into the crowd of people. In the meantime, the sandy haired boy just stood there and watched the others, his eyes narrowed in a calculating gaze.

Hermione slowly made her way towards him, and he looked up when she arrived next to him. There was no sense to cockiness or smugness; he merely tilted his head slightly to one side and looked at her, as if sizing her up.

“Hello,” she said, smiling at him. He did not return it and just continued to stare at her impassively. “I just saw you perform the disarming spell, and on your first try as well! That was rather impressive, and it seems a bit redundant that I tell you this, but you obviously passed the first stage.” There was still no sign of emotion—neither happy nor sad. He was just a blank mask.

Hermione, feeling rather awkward all of a sudden, asked, “What’s your name?” In Lucius Malfoy’s case, she recognized him from his hair. However, this boy was rather plain; he had no features that stood out that she could use to identify him from all the other sandy haired boys.

The boy smirked. “Theo,” he said quietly. Somehow, she could hear him while all the other Slytherins chatted noisily around her. “Theodore Nott.”

She recognized the name, though she knew it wasn’t the same person; his father was one of the wealthiest company owners in the country, maybe only second to Lucius and the Malfoy Enterprise. This had to be his son, then. Hermione looked at him thoughtfully. He didn’t look like the heir to the Nott line; he was much too quiet and serious to make a good leader.

Though, his magical skills certainly weren’t lacking, and he seemed to be able to learn quite easily. She would have to keep a close eye on him; he was already shaping himself up to be a candidate for one of the four spots.

“Nice to meet you, Theo,” she nodded, frowning slightly as she saw Draco and Blaise trying to use all types of dark spells. Hermione rolled her eyes as the wands merely exploded and settled in to a pile of wood dust on the floor. Unfortunately, she had seen both of them perform a successful disarming spell after a couple of tries, so she had no choice but to admit them to the second stage. Theo caught her looking and he smirked, which had to be the most emotion she had seen on his face.

“Why are you here?” Hermione inquired as he turned his brown eyes back towards her. She knew that they had been selected by random, but they had had a choice not to come if they chose to. She also knew that he was most likely in it for the wand, but she needed a conversation starter to break the awkward silence that started to settle over the two of them.

“The same reason everyone else is here,”

So he  _was_ here for the wand. “Let me rephrase that: what do you want to use the wand for?” Depending on the Santa’s evaluation of each of the helpers, they could keep their wands for a varied amount of time after Christmas was over. There were some cases where the Santas even allowed their helpers to keep their wands forever—something Hermione didn’t think she would be doing this year. She didn’t trust the Slytherins not to wreck havoc if she gave them an object as powerful as a wand.

Theo smiled, except it wasn’t a happy smile; it looked bitter. “Revenge,” he said simply, dropping the wands in the bucket before he turned around and left, leaving Hermione standing behind, pondering over his words.

 _Revenge_ , he had said. Hermione didn’t know if he was a good guy or a bad guy. And she didn’t know if she wanted to find out the reason for the bitterness behind his words, the reason he was an emotionless shell.

One by one, the people successfully performed the spell and left. Unfortunately for Hermione, she only managed to cut two people off for not being able to perform the disarming spell: Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle. The two of them threw a mini-tantrum in the middle of the room, but finally left when Hermione glared at them.

Now, with the room empty and her numbers down to thirty eight, Hermione sighed and started to clean up the room. They had made a mess; there was wands scattered everywhere, both intact and broken. Someone had come up with the genius idea of breaking the wands on their heads, which Hermione only barely managed to put an end to. They simply scowled at her, saying  _‘You’re no fun, Granger,_ ’ before trudging out of the room.

She had heard that phrase way too many times, but there had to be  _someone_  to enforce order. The whole evaluation would be a complete mess if she didn’t take her job seriously enough, and if being disliked was the price to pay, then she would happily do it.

She was still immersed in her thoughts when she was suddenly pinned against the wall, a set of lips attacking her own. Her hand immediately drifted to her wand, a defense mechanism, before she spotted the familiar red hair. She allowed herself to just give in, to forget the whole evaluation and her responsibilities. His lips were warm against hers, and it was a slow and gentle kiss as she wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him closer.

And then reality came back, and she stepped away.

“Ronald Weasley,” she scolded. The two of them had started dating many years ago, and according to Harry, he was close to proposing. Unfortunately, while she still loved him dearly, she found that she was not  _in_  love with him anymore. She was trying to find the easiest way to tell him, but every time he kissed her and looked at her with that gentle expression of his, she found the words dying in her mouth. She always told herself that she would tell him another day.

Except, that day never seemed to come.

“Hello, Hermione,” Ron grinned sheepishly, stepping back to give her some personal space. He looked around, eyes drifting towards the pile of broken wands. “It seems like you have them under control.”

“As under control as the Slytherins can be,” Hermione rolled her eyes, tossing everything in the trash. “How many times have I told you not to come disturb me while I’m working? And how many times have I told you that we cannot— _absolutely_ cannot—kiss while I’m on duty?”

 “But  _Hermione_ ,” Ron said in a voice that sounded whiny. Hermione rolled her eyes again, but could not prevent herself from grinning; he was a big baby, yes, but that was something she loved about him. “You’re not working anymore. Everyone left already. We’re all alone.”

“I am still on duty, Ron,” she told him firmly. “I’ll go home in thirty minutes, but I need to stay here and clean up. You, in the meantime, can find something productive to do with your time. Maybe go and help Harry out with his work.”

“Harry’s probably snogging Ginny. I don’t want to witness that,” Hermione smiled slightly. It was true; Harry seemed to be getting closer to Ron’s sister, and while Ron didn’t necessary approve of the relationship, he was being a good friend and brother by not interfering. “And can’t I stay here and help you?”

“No. This is my duty and not yours.” She pointed towards the door. “Out, Ronald.”

“Fine!” Ron held up his hands as he made his way towards the exit. “Merlin, you sound like my  _mother_.” He had meant it as an insult, but Hermione saw it rather as praise; she had met Mrs. Weasley countless number of times, and she adored the woman. She was extraordinarily nice and made the best food.

The door clicked shut behind him, and Hermione went back to dusting the fragments of wood on the floor. If she was honest with herself, the only reason she had chased out Ron was because she was afraid of the awkward silences that would appear. They had never once appeared during their long friendship, but she had noticed them after they started dating. She didn’t like it; she used to have so much to talk to Ron about, and now there when moments where she could not bring herself to say anything.

“That was certainly interesting.”

Hermione almost jumped a mile and pulled out her wand to curse the intruder. Her heart pounding loudly, she whirled around to see the man who had paired up with Theodore Nott earlier, leaning casually against the wall with a smirk on his face. He had been the first one to successfully perform the disarming spell, so she had expected that he would’ve just left afterwards. Now that she thought about it, she hadn’t actually seen him exit.

“You,” she pointed to him, feeling rather embarrassed that she had not prepared enough. He raised his eyebrow at her. “You…what’s your name again?”

“Tom,” he replied, looking very amused indeed.

“Yes, Tom.” She racked her brain. Tom Riddle, who was a year older than her. He was said to be extraordinarily talented and intelligent, at least from the limited amount of gossip she heard. She noticed that he was a nice sight to ogle at as well; his cheek bones were high and his eyes were dark. He looked like a dark prince right out of a storybook. “What are you still doing here?”

“I wasn’t aware that it was a crime for me to do so,” He smirked at her. “I advise you to watch how you angle your mouth next time. The two of you were practically slobbering all over each other.”

Hermione’s face turned red. She didn’t know what was more embarrassing, the fact that he was watching, or the fact that he was watching closely enough to take notes.

Before she could say anything that no doubt would’ve further embarrassed herself, Tom unexpectedly said, “Let’s duel.”

Hermione blinked at him. “Excuse me?”

“Duel, where two people use wands and fire curses at each other,” Tom defined patiently, an amused expression written on his face as he regarded her with a cocky smugness.

“I know what dueling is,” Hermione rolled her eyes. “You want to duel  _me_? And what, exactly, would you duel me with?” She eyed the broken pieces of the restricted wand. “Unfortunately for you, you cannot beat me with a broken wand, no matter how capable you are.”

“I wasn’t referring to those wands,” he said pleasantly. “You could give me a wand. I know you always carry spares.” Hermione glared at him, not wanting to know how he found out.

“I’m sorry,” she said icily. “But just because you stayed behind does not mean you get extra privileges. You will be allowed to hold a real wand if you pass the evaluations, but for now, you are the same as the other people, which means that you will have to wait.” She glanced at him to find his face was completely wiped clean of emotion. “If that’s all you wanted, I will ask you to leave now, as I still have work to do. Come back tomorrow at eight.”

He simply stared at her, as if trying to figure out whether or not she was joking. She merely stared back; just because he had witnessed her kissing Ron did not mean that he could suddenly assume that he deserved special rights. He would have to wait until he got selected in order to own a wand.

In the end, he cocked his head slightly to one side, as if nodding politely. However, Hermione could see the underlying anger in his eyes. “There’s probably nothing you can teach me, Hermione Granger,” he said, narrowing his eyes. Without another word, he turned around the swept out of the room, leaving Hermione to stare at the spot where he just was.

* * *

A week later, Hermione was starting to get annoyed.

She assigned a lesson every day, but unfortunately, most people seemed to be perfectly capable of passing even though Hermione had no interest in keeping them as assistants. The Slytherins, though they often acted otherwise, seemed to have  _some_ brain to make up for their insanely huge egos. They seemed to be staying only because of the prize of the wand, which pissed Hermione off.

She decided that today was the day she would end it. She would lower her numbers from thirty to at least fifteen—lower, if she was lucky.

“Today, you will be casting the Patronus charm,” she told the group. “It is a particularly difficult spell that can only be achieved if the caster is thinking about a happy memory.” Her eyes swept over the group. After spending more than a week with them, Hermione had learned that the best approach was to anchor down and be harsh with them; it was the only way they would listen. Any sign of hesitation and they would pounce on her. “However, there is a catch. The wands,” she gestured towards the bucket, “will only allow you to try three times. If you do not produce a successful patronus, or at least some mist, within the three tries, you are officially out of the evaluation. Are we clear?”

For the first time since she had started, she watched as a look of dread settled over most of their faces. It was, after all, the first time that she limited their amount of tries. She usually believed in not restricting magic, but she truly wanted to pick off the people who were not capable.

There were still confident people who looked like nothing could bring them down, like Lucius, who sat there with a smug look on his face, believing that he could easily overcome this challenge. Theo, as usual, did not look fazed by this. He merely cocked his head to one side when her eyes locked with his and offered her a slight smile that Hermione almost thought she had imagined.

However, surprisingly enough, Tom was frowning. After she had thrown him out and refused to duel him, he had merely completed each task without talking to her, which was completely fine with her; she wasn’t looking to make friends. She did note that he was always the quickest to perform the spells, and always on his first try as well. In the eight days since the evaluation started, she had never seen him fail at anything she tried. She had thought that nothing could stump him, but apparently he was worried that the patronus charm might.

It was true that the Patronus charm was by far the most difficult spell she had assigned so far, and the spell limit did not make it easier. However, she had thought that it would take a lot more than the Patronus charm to stump Tom Riddle.

Everyone got their wands, and she immediately wandered over to Theo first, as she had found herself starting to do. Theo got things almost as fast as Tom did, and she never had to help him; he shrugged off all of her attempts to.

However, before she could even reach him, a successful patronus appeared in front of him. It took the shape of a wolf, and Hermione thought that it matched his personality quite accurately. It turned around, as if sniffing the air, before soaring away. The other occupants of the room stopped to stare as the beautiful creature flew out the window in one graceful leap.

Hermione turned to him, grinning. She knew that other than to accept congratulations, he would not talk to her. And that was fine with her; in the first couple of days, it took a lot of coaxing for him to even _acknowledge_  her. “Great job as always, Theo.” She beamed at him.

He smiled eerily at her, as he always did. “Good day, Granger,” he said, and then he was gone.

Hermione sighed; the one thing that always bothered her was that he always left before she could converse with him. Now that she was seriously considering him as a candidate, she wanted to at least get to know a little about his life, but he never gave her the chance to. He always finished the tasks rather quickly—almost as quickly as Tom—and then he just left. She couldn’t chase after him, because as much as she wanted to, she still had a room full of people who needed help.

She wanted to know what he had meant by ‘ _revenge.’_

She wandered over to a man who was a little older than she was. She had found out earlier that his name was Regulus Black, whose brother, ironically, was Harry’s godfather. However, while Sirius was mischievous and rather wild, Regulus was more reserved and calculating, though he did seem to share the same prankster qualities that his brother had.

There had been an incident a couple of days ago where Regulus, who was apparently as fed up as Hermione of Lucius’ constant jabbering, used a match to set his hair on fire. After the fire had—unfortunately—been put out, Lucius began pointing fingers everywhere, accusing everyone and everything. However, Regulus had been smart enough to throw away the matches and get rid of all evidence, and everyone—herself included—pretended not to have seen Regulus in the act. In the end, there was nothing Lucius could do besides glare around and swallow his pride.

 “Hello,” he nodded towards her politely. He was probably the most well-mannered of them all, and Hermione sometimes wondered if he had gone to live in the wrong community. She thought he would’ve been better suited in Gryffindor, but whenever she brought it up with him, he merely shrugged it off and said he couldn’t change anything. It seemed to be a sore spot for him, and Hermione knew better than to prod.

“Regulus,” she greeted, stepping up next to him. “How is the patronus going?” She noticed that the room was silent for once as everyone tried to concentrate to make sure they produced one in less than three tries. Even Lucius was suspiciously quiet, his mouth shut for the longest that Hermione had ever seen. She was not an idiot, though, and she kept her eye out in case someone decided to grab another wand and try again.

“Not very well,” Regulus shrugged. “I got mist on my first try. I know you said that I only need to get that, but I will only feel accomplished if I get the corporeal form.” Hermione was mildly impressed; for a Slytherin to admit fallacy was something rare. “Perhaps my happy memory wasn’t happy enough.”

“It got mist, so it definitely has potential,” Hermione replied. “What memory is it that you’re thinking of?”

Regulus’ lips curled and he watched her carefully. “When my mother died.”

She stared at him, her mouth slightly open as he grinned, looking very amused by her reaction. Before she could say anything, he waved his wand and said, “ _Expecto Patronum!_ ”

A big dog flew out the tip of his wand, wandering in circles for a while, before getting up and jumping away. It barely missed Lucius’ head, and the Malfoy glared angrily at the dog before it disappeared. Hermione turned and looked at Regulus. “Your patronus is the same as Sirius’,” she said.

“Yes, my brother and I were often so similar that it was annoying,” Regulus said. He paused for a while, dropping the wand back into the box, before saying, “However, seeing how you know him so well, I would’ve expected him to tell you about the fact that my mother died.”

“I wasn’t as close to him as Harry was,” Hermione shrugged. “We just passed by each other. We didn’t have that much in common. He  _did_ , however, tell me about your mother, but I hadn’t known that you harbored such a deep hatred for her.”

Regulus sighed. “She’s the reason I agreed to come here in the first place,” he rolled his eyes. “Unlike everyone else, I have no interest in the wand. I only want it because of my father.” He paused. “My father and I used to be close. Sure, he was harsh sometimes, but I truly looked up to him.” He sighed. “Sirius never got our bond, but that was because Sirius was always hanging around James, and my father did not approve of him.” He paused. “Mother completely ruined him. She kept putting him under more pressure and stress than he could handle, complaining and blaming him for things he had no control over. And, contrary to what many rumors say, Slytherins  _do_  have the capability to love. And my father loved my mother very much, even though she no longer did.” There was a sad glint in his eyes as he spoke. “And then he started drinking. After Mother died—which was a  _huge_  relief for both Sirius and me—he still didn’t stop. At first, it was tolerable; I didn’t like it, but he would just pass out and wake up fine the next morning. However, after a while, he started beating me when he came home.”

“I’m sorry,” Hermione said softly. She had a feeling he didn’t want to hear it, but there was nothing else she could really say to him to make him feel better. She had always been rather awkward when it came to comforting other people; she always seemed to make the situation worse.

“That’s why I want to get a wand,” Regulus said firmly, and Hermione admired him for being able to keep a strong face. She herself probably would’ve started tearing up a little. “I don’t want to hurt him, as he is still my father and I still admire him just as much as I did when I was five. But I want to apply for The Hypnotist job, so if I get the position, I can put my father to sleep when he gets home. He can sleep it off, and I won’t be forced to hurt him for my own protection.”

“That’s a very good reason,” Hermione nodded. She wanted to tell him that she would try her best to help him, but she wasn’t supposed to show any favoritism. After all, hadn’t she chased out Tom just a week ago?

Hermione hesitantly touched his hand gently. He looked slightly surprised, but didn’t push her hand away. “Well, congratulations,” she told him, smiling slightly. “You have passed this stage and are one step closer to your goal.”

Regulus looked like he was about to say something, when there was a sudden bark of, “Granger, get over here.” Lucius Malfoy was standing with both his son and grandson, and for the first time, he looked quite panicked indeed. His grandson obviously had not produced a corporal patronus on his first two attempts, and had only one attempt to be able to succeed. Hermione was considering not responding to him since he was so impolite and rude to her, but one glance at poor Scorpius’ face made her decide to go over and help them.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Hermione,” Regulus said, understanding that it was time for him to leave. “Say hi to my brother for me.”

Hermione had never understood why Sirius and Regulus had not got along well. Maybe it was because of the problem with their parents that had forced Regulus to move to the Slytherin side of town, which enraged Sirius. Sirius was a fierce advocator of loyalty, and he must’ve taken his brother’s relocation as a sign of disloyalty.

But honestly, the bond between the Black brothers had enough potential to be as close as the bond between Sirius and James.

Hermione hurried over to the Malfoy family, where Scorpius looked  he was going to cry and throw a fit. His father was looking at him, disappointment etched on his face, and Lucius was glaring at Hermione for taking too long to come over.

“Granger,  _fix this_ ,” he ordered harshly, pointing at his grandson like Scorpius was just a broken down car that needed repair. “My grandson has failed to produce even  _mist_  in the previous two tries. Make him get it.” He glared at her, as if it was somehow her fault that Scorpius could not produce a patronus.

She considered not helping him; the man needed to learn some manners. Nevertheless, while Lucius annoyed the hell out of her, Scorpius had done nothing wrong so far. He was simply born into the wrong family. She bent down to eyelevel with him. Even though he was ten, he was so scared now that he looked no older than the age of two. He stared at her, his body shivering slightly, and his eyes were pleading her. She couldn’t turn him down, no matter how much she hated his grandfather.

She had always reminded herself not to judge an individual by their family. That was something that no one had any control over.

But then again, this was the  _patronus charm_ ; there wasn’t much she could really help him with. She could tell him how to attempt it, sure, but the actual spell casting part was completely up to him.

“Scorpius,” she said seriously. He nodded, listening to her every word. She wondered if it was so because he actually wanted to produce a patronus, or whether he just wanted to please his father and grandfather. “Think of a happy memory. It has to be the happiest memory you have. Can you imagine it?”

Scorpius wrinkled his forehead, thinking hard, before he nodded. He didn’t seem particularly keen on sharing it with her, and Hermione didn’t ask.

“Think hard on it. You need to absolutely focus on it and let the happy feeling wash over you. I can’t help you keep your mind focused; only you can. Once you think you’re ready, you can say the words. But _only_  if you think you’re ready.” She reminded him, “One more try.”

Scorpius paused, his hand fisted tightly around the wand. Both his relatives were looking quite nervous; Lucius even seemed to be starting to sweat. Again, Hermione wondered if they truly wanted their grandson to do well or if it was just for the reputation of the Malfoy family. Whatever it was, it seemed like such a big responsibility to throw on such a little kid.

Scorpius raised a shaking hand, and with his eyes squeezed with determination, said  _“Expecto Patronum!_ ” It wasn’t the best; there was no obvious patronus appearing. However, a little mist squirted out from the tip of the wand, and Scorpius’ face immediately lit up. Behind him, both his father and his grandfather let out a sigh of relief.

That was okay. She could work with that.

“That’s great, Scorpius!” Hermione smiled, patting his shoulder. Scorpius beamed at her, his face radiating with light. He was still just a little boy; he looked the way they did when they accomplished something difficult, when they finally overcame a challenge.

However, it was completely wiped off in a matter of seconds. Perhaps he realized that his father and grandfather were still standing behind him, as he brushed Hermione’s hand off of him. When Hermione’s smile slid off her face, he scowled at her and said, “Get your hands off of me, bitch.”

Hermione blinked in shock as Lucius smirked and patted his grandson proudly, before the three of them turned and exited the room. She had just seen the boy go from nervous to happy to just downright mean. She was left wondering which part of Scorpius Malfoy was real, and which part he was just acting out.

After she helped Scorpius, there was only one person left in the room who still hadn’t used up his three tries. Everyone else had already cleared out of the room. Surprisingly, it was Tom Riddle, still looking very frustrated indeed. She made her way over to him, and he scowled at her, like this was all her fault. Which, she supposed, it was.

“This is stupid,” he said, which summed things up quite nicely.

“Yes, I know,” Hermione admitted. “I didn’t want to do something so difficult, but Christmas is coming, so I have to make decisions soon. And I can’t get to know each individual person if there are thirty people, so I had to narrow the field down  _somehow_.” She smiled at him. “Don’t worry; I’m sure you’ll get it quite easily.” She had complete confidence in him.

Tom stared down at his wand. Then, he said, his voice unemotional, “I don’t have any happy memories.”

Hermione raised an eyebrow. “That’s impossible. Everyone does.” She laughed. “You’re just too embarrassed to admit it. That’s alright, I won’t tell anyone. Though, you don’t need to worry; even someone like _Lucius_  has a happy memory.” Instead of cheering him up, it only seemed to deepen his scowl that Lucius Malfoy had managed to beat him in a particular spell. “You won’t know unless you try,” she offered helpfully.

Tom cast her a sideways look, and she couldn’t tell if he was annoyed or amused. He raised his wand elegantly, like he always did. Hermione had a suspicion that he had used a wand in the past, though she didn’t know where he could’ve possibly gotten one. Gracefully, he flicked his wand and said, “ _Expecto Patronum._ ”

There was nothing. Not even the slightest hint of mist.

“What kind of memory are you thinking of?” Hermione inquired curiously. It was the first time that she had seen Tom Riddle attempt to do a spell, but fail. It looked quite strange to see him flick his wand, and have the intended result not come out.

“I wasn’t thinking of anything.”

Hermione raised an eyebrow. “Weren’t you listening to me? The Patronus charm only works if you think about a happy memory. Keeping your mind blank isn’t going to help you. You need to think of something which makes you happy.” She shrugged. “According to Aristotle, anyway.”

Tom met her gaze evenly. “I told you already. I have no happy memories.”

Hermione simply looked at him. “I don’t believe you. What type of person has no happy memories?” When he didn’t say anything, she pressed on. “What about your family? Your mother or your father? Any siblings you love? Any friends you had good times with?”

“My mother died giving birth to me,” Tom said shortly, though he didn’t look saddened by this fact. In fact, he looked almost gleeful. “As for my father, he was a bastard. I killed him when I was ten.” He had a surprisingly self-satisfied look on his face.

Hermione blinked at him. “You  _killed_  him?” she repeated.

“Yes, with a gun,” Tom said. “A wand would’ve been more elegant, but I did not have one, and I wasn’t going to risk stealing just for  _him_. He wasn’t worth that much.” He shrugged. “A knife would’ve made him suffer more,” he smiled cruelly. “However, a gun would help my defense more.”

Hermione swallowed. “Which was?”

“That it was self defense.” Tom said. “My  _father_ ,” he spat the word out. “Was a sick bastard. Everyone knew how he tortured his poor little child.” Tom smiled eerily. “I just waited for him to come home drunk one night, a gun next to me for protection. It was him who attacked me first.”

Hermione looked at him. “So was it self defense?”

“That’s what it says on paper.”

Hermione sighed, unsure what to make of this new information. “While I’m sure that was not the best course of action,” she said. “It is good that you made it out safely. It saddens me to think that a parent should ever want to abuse their own children.” She thought of her own loving parents, who lived outside the Hogwarts province in muggle England. She visited them once a month, though after this conversation, Hermione thought that she would have to visit them more often. It was not right of her to neglect them.

Tom tilted his head to one side, observing her, as if trying to figure her out. She glanced pointedly at his wand. “Just because you’ve earned my sympathy does not excuse you from this task,” she informed him, and he smirked. “You still have two more tries to perform a patronus, or at least some mist. While it was unfortunate and sad that your personal life was this way, there has to be  _some_ happiness.”

“There’s none,” Tom said shortly.

“Well, I advise you think of one,” Hermione retorted. “Because it’s getting rather late and I would prefer not to spend my evening here trying to help you find something that made you happy. You’re old enough; you can think by yourself.”

Tom shrugged, seeming to look a little nervous for the first time since she had met him. Perhaps this was the first spell that he was not able to perform on his first try. Hermione supposed, looking at him, that this was the first time he did not succeed and he didn’t know how to deal with failure.

” _Expecto Patronum_ ,” Tom tried again, but still there was nothing. Hermione frowned; it was uncommon for him to fail once, but  _twice_? Even he seemed surprised that it had not worked, and he glared at his wand.

“It’s the wand,” Tom said carelessly, moving to get another one. Hermione blocked his path, and he scowled at her. “Get out of the way, Granger. This does not concern you.”

“Does not concern me?” Hermione repeated. “I’ll tell you something, Tom Riddle. If you go pick up another wand, no matter if you succeed on the first of your three extra tries, I will be forced to disqualify you.” She realized she was screaming and lowered her voice. “Maybe, instead of cheating, you can try to figure out what you did wrong. Which memory did you use?”

“Nothing.”

Hermione almost growled in frustration. “I told you it wouldn’t work if you don’t think of anything!” she said, glowering at him, forgetting to keep her emotions in check. “I don’t know why you were so surprised it didn’t work if you aren’t capable of following instructions.”

“And I told you,” Tom replied, his eyes narrowed, “That I do that have any happy memories, therefore this task is unfit for me and I demand that I receive a new one.”

“Tell that to the Dementors who attack you,” Hermione retorted. “I’m sure they’ll wait there while you go run for help for someone who can actually produce a patronus. In the real world, Tom, you cannot be picky.”

He was silent.

“Here,” Hermione automatically felt bad about scolding him. “Why don’t you try to think of something moderately happy? Anything that made you feel warm and fuzzy inside?”

Her statement seemed to have offended him because he scowled at her. “I told you I don’t—”

“And I told you to  _find one_ ,” she all but screamed at him. She was a little surprised at her own temper. “If you don’t find one before you try again, then you will  _fail and go home_.” Hermione glared at him. “And then I will  _laugh_  at you, because you won’t even try.”

A silence followed her words, where Tom seemed to be pondering over what she said. After a while, he nodded and silently raised his wand without saying anything. Hermione, who had been expecting him to yell back, was silent; she wanted to make sure that he could properly concentrate so that he couldn’t blame her for distracting him should he fail again.

He raised his wand again, for the third time, and Hermione found herself praying that he could somehow find his happy memory, could somehow produce the Patronus and pass. He began the proper wand movements, twirling his hand up and down, and Hermione crossed her fingers.

“ _Expecto Patronum._ ”

And then there was nothing.

Tom stared down at the wand, and then to his hands, and then back to the wand again. He was strangely civilized; Hermione had expected some frustrated angry yells, some wand snapping, and a fully blown tantrum. However, she supposed that Tom was above all that.

Instead, he moved over and dropped his wand back into the box. Hermione’s gaze drifted down to his hands, and she remembered how he had elegantly performed the disarming spell on the first day. His movements seemed effortless whenever he performed magic, and she suddenly thought of how she’d hate to lose someone who was as capable as he was.

Besides, he was correct. She couldn’t judge him on just one spell.

“Tom,” she called out as he headed towards the door. He paused, but didn’t turn around. She looked around, as if to check whether everyone had left and couldn’t hear her words. “I want you to come at the same time tomorrow.”

She couldn’t see his face, but she imagined confusion written all over it. “You said that if I were to fail, I was to go home.”

She did indeed say that, and Hermione tried to shrug it off. “You tried,” she said, hoping he would just accept it and be grateful.

Unfortunately, he was Tom Riddle and was different from everyone else. “Everyone tried,” he replied, sounding very amused indeed. Hermione could almost imagine the smirk that was on his face.

Hermione just rolled her eyes. “You keep arguing, and I’ll change my mind,” she tapped her foot impatiently. “If that’s all you wanted, I will ask you to leave now, as I still have work to do. Come back tomorrow at eight.”

He paused, and Hermione thought that he was going to argue with her about justice, but he merely turned around and gave her a smirk. It wasn’t a grateful smirk, but it was better than nothing.

“See you around,  _Hermione_ ,” he said. It was the first time that any of the Slytherins had called her by her first name, and she noticed how easily it rolled off his tongue.

She liked it.

* * *

Surprisingly enough, the Patronus stage had cut off more people than she had expected, though she certainly wasn’t complaining. She worked better with smaller numbers, anyway. The next day, there were eight out of the thirty people left, seven if you took out Tom.

Tom, in the meantime, looked way too smug as he came into the room the next day.

She decided to meet them in small groups to get to know them better. She had, for the most part, made her decisions already, but she decided it wouldn’t hurt to talk to them a bit. However, the method that she was going to use might frighten a good number of them away, but she decided that it had to be done. Legilimency was an invasion of privacy, but she had to do a quick background check to make herself feel better.

The eight people that she had left were: Theodore Nott, Regulus Black, Lucius and Draco and Scorpius Malfoy, Blaise Zabini, Augustus Rookwood and of course, Tom Riddle. She had three people who she knew for sure were going to make it to one of the four positions, but she didn’t know who the fourth member would be.

Lucius and Draco, she did not even consider. She didn’t think she could handle more of Lucius’ squabbling until Christmas. Nor did she ever want to see either him or his son with a wand. Scorpius seemed better than his relatives, but he had insulted her after she had helped him with his Patronus; something that did not sit well with Hermione. She liked to be thanked. Blaise Zabini was best friends with Draco, and the two of them often did silly and dangerous things together. He was quickly written off as well.

Augustus Rookwood, for the most part, was all right. He followed instructions and he did what he was told without protest. However, she had once seen him attempting the Cruciatus Curse, but his wand exploded into dust in front of him. Anyone who tried it once would want to try it again, and she didn’t quite trust him anymore. She kept a close eye on him after that incident, and though she never saw him try it again, Hermione was still quite suspicious of his motives.

Theo was still ever so mysterious. She still didn’t know anything more about him than his name, and he seemed particularly good at hiding and changing the topic when she tried to ask. Hermione tried to come up with a whole bunch of excuses as to why she wanted to know what was in his head, but to be honest, she was just plain curious.

Regulus, on the other hand, had told her everything. She went home to check with Sirius, and after a while, he confirmed it. Hermione also managed to make him set up an appointment to meet his brother, which was something that she was extremely proud of doing. Regulus himself even came up to her and thanked her afterwards. Hermione thought that some day in the near future, maybe he would show up at the Burrow for one of the Weasleys’ holiday dinners.

It was strange to hear a Slytherin thank her. But then again, if she didn’t like to be judged by her stereotypes, maybe she shouldn’t judge other people just by what part of the country they lived in. She hadn’t been particularly fair, thinking that none of the Slytherins could be trusted; some of them did prove her wrong after all.

And then there was Tom. It frustrated her that he somehow made it seem as if it were  _her_ that was in debt to him instead of the other way around. He gave her his trademark smirk numerous times, which Hermione interpreted as a threat that he was going to tell everyone that she had cheated and let him stay.

It was supposed to be the other way around, but he somehow managed to turn it in his favor, so that she owed him instead of him owing her.

The first group she had came in the morning, which consisted of Blaise, Draco, Lucius and Augustus. After she had made the groups, she suddenly felt very stupid; why would she torture herself by assembling all the people who annoyed her to start off the day? It was very early; she was cranky and they were cranky and it could not possibly end well. Why couldn’t she split them up? Sure, she probably wanted to get things over with as fast as she could, but was this really necessary?

As soon as Lucius and Draco stepped into the room, smug looks on their faces, Hermione immediately regretted it.

The four of them sat in front of her, and she cleared her throat. They were four wealthy, and quite intimidating men. Hermione felt small in their presence, but forced herself not to shrink into a little ball.

“Okay,” she nodded. “As you are aware, you are four of the eight people left competing for four spots, which means that you have a fifty percent chance of making it.” Blaise and Draco exchanged a look that Hermione couldn’t comprehend. “Therefore, as there are very little people left, I want to use Legilimency on you to perform a quick check on your personality and your background.” She looked at them carefully, gauging their reactions.

She knew it was an invasion of privacy, to use this as an excuse to look through their memories, but she also felt quite justified. They wouldn’t just straight out tell her about the dark crimes they had committed in the past, and Hermione thought that she had the right to know about their backgrounds before she even thought about giving them a wand. She had asked Harry for his advice as well, and after some serious thought, he had agreed with her reasoning.

As expected, they looked less than pleased.

“You can’t do that, Granger,” Lucius hissed, looking, for once, not calm and collected. He seemed to be sweating as well. He must’ve truly had a lot to hide. “That’s an invasion of privacy, and I’ll report you to the Ministry if you try it.”

“The Ministry will back me up,” Hermione informed him. She had gone to seek permission the day before, and after a couple hours of debating, they gave her permission. However, they said that if she used the information for anything other then work related, than she would be fired. She was fine with that; she wasn’t particularly keen with gossiping about Lucius Malfoy’s private life, nor did she think anyone wanted to hear about it.

“I’m innocent!” he said. Besides him, the other three bobbled their heads in agreement, though everyone looked surprised at Lucius’ breakdown; Draco in particular. “I am completely innocent, and you can’t do this to me!”

“If you are completely innocent,” Hermione said calmly, “Then you will have nothing to hide.” She gestured towards the exit. “As always, the door is right there for anyone who wants to leave.  _I_  am not forcing you to stay here. You are.” She tilted her head slightly to one side—a habit she seemed to have picked up from both Tom and Theo. “If anyone wants to leave, they should do so now.”

She thought, for a second, that they would all make her job easier and get up and leave, thus saving her the trouble of having to look through their minds. Truthfully, contrary to what they might think, she had no interest at all in what was in their heads. Not what was in  _their_  heads, anyways.

After a minute of tense silence, however, no one moved. Even Lucius still sat in his seat, though there was a scowl on his face. His posture was stiff, and he crossed his arms as an act of defensiveness.

“Okay, then. I will begin with Lucius.” She turned to the other people in the room. “If you try to attack me while I am in the process of searching his brain, there will be dire consequences that you do not want to know about. And trust me when I say you  _do not_  want to ever know about.” She looked at them. “Is that clear?”

They all nodded.

“Alright,” she took out her real wand, and immediately, all of the eyes wandered over to it, drinking in the sight greedily. Lucius almost reached for it, but Hermione stepped back and he quickly dropped his arm and scowled.

She wanted to hide it back in her pocket, but she was not advanced enough to do wandless magic. She had started to do nonverbal incantations, but wandless was still an area out of her reach. Instead, she gave the three of them a warning look before turning back to Lucius, raising her wand. At first, he looked like he wanted to argue, but then wisely remained silent.

“ _Legilimens!_ ”

As soon as Hermione entered his mind, she immediately regretted it.

It felt so  _dark_. She could almost feel no emotions, other than a sick amusement. And then the visions came, each one bloodier than the previous. Hermione thanked whoever was listening that she had not decided to eat breakfast yet; if she had, she would’ve surely thrown it all up.

It seemed that Lucius had been part of a gang that went around torturing people. His gang didn’t even have the decency to go around the Hogwarts crest; they went outside to muggle England to beat up unsuspecting people. Hermione went through about three images, knowing that the worse was still to come. She decided it was time to pull out; no wonder that he hadn’t wanted her to see that, it completely squashed all chances of him making it.

However, before she could pull out of his mind, she felt a wave of dread wash over her. Out of reflex, Hermione quickly retracted herself from Lucius’ brain and pointed her wand to the left. It was not a second too soon, either, because had she been just a second late, Draco and Blaise would’ve managed to wrestle her wand from her.

Instead, she had blasted them in to the wall, and she stood up, a furious expression on her face. Lucius still looked rather dazed, while Augustus was still sitting in his chair. So it had been the two friends’ smart idea to disobey her. Luckily, they were still conscious, so she could vent her anger on them.

“I  _told_  you not to try anything!” she all but screeched at them. There was a cut on Draco’s lip, but Hermione didn’t know what he could’ve cut himself on. Blaise had, apparently, hurt his back as he was bending over and groaning. However, even  _that_  did not earn Hermione’s sympathies. “You couldn’t just wait for your turn? Now you’ve officially ruined any chance you have with getting a wand.”

“You weren’t going to consider us anyway, Granger,” Draco sneered, somehow managing to pull himself up. “You just wanted to probe around our brains. You’re taking advantage of us.”

“I gave you the choice to walk out,” Hermione said. “You chose to stay, and now we will never know if you had any chance to make it, because whatever you had,  _you blew it._ ” She glared at them. “You may leave now. I will notify the Ministry of your actions and they will take necessary repercussions.” She glanced over at Lucius. “You are dismissed as well, and be aware that you will be under the charge of assaulting and harassing numerous people over the years.” She was wondering why Lucius even bothered to stay. Did he truly think she was sick enough that she would allow him to stay after she had seen all of that?

She turned to Augustus but before she could speak, he stood up. “I’m leaving,” he said shortly, and before Hermione could stop him, he was out of the door. It then occurred to Hermione that Augustus was one of the gang members that she had seen in Lucius’ mind; she would have to notify the Ministry to trace his movements as well. He must’ve thought that the wand wasn’t worth her probing through his brain.

“Granger,” Draco hissed as he stood up, not even bothering to help Blaise. “You will die. I swear on everything that I own that you will die a painful, bloody death.”

Hermione merely shrugged it off; she had never believed much in prophecies. There was a woman who came to the Ministry once, claiming that she was a Seer. Harry and Ron had bought her act, but Hermione didn’t believe a single word of what she was saying. The Grim? It sounded as if she was just making up things as she went.

The three of them headed towards the door—Blaise and Draco with some difficulty. Before they left, though, Lucius turned around and pointed a finger at her. “I will have my revenge,” he announced. “Mark my words, Hermione Granger. I will be back. And when I do,” he narrowed his eyes, “Watch your back.”

And then he was gone.

* * *

The second group started off more pleasantly than the first group had.

Scorpius was the first one to come in, though Hermione didn’t know if his father and grandfather had told him about their meeting. If they had, he certainly didn’t seem scared by the idea of her probing through his mind. He didn’t say anything either, but just sat himself down on the sofa on the far left, staring out the window.

Theo came next, and he smiled eerily at her like he always did. However, Hermione was starting to notice that it was becoming more and more like a real grin than a fake, emotionless smile. He was starting to open up more, not with his voice, but with his emotions, and Hermione was grateful for that.

Scorpius looked over at him, seemingly trying to convey a message with his eyes. Theo met his gaze evenly, his eyes calculating. In the end, they seemed to reach an agreement without words, because Theo nodded and turned away, while Scorpius had a puzzled look on his face.

There was a pause, and then Scorpius said, “I’m sorry about Daphne.”

Theo seemed to flinch, as if he had been slapped. Hermione noticed how he tensed up, his hands gripping the sofa tightly, turning his knuckles white. She knew that he must’ve been uncomfortable, but before she could break up their little interaction, Theo nodded, as if acknowledging Scorpius for the first time.

Then he said, “I’m sorry about Tori.” The two of them shared a secret smile.

Hermione didn’t know what that was about.

Regulus came in next, and he smiled at her. “I saw my brother,” he said, not caring that there were other people in the room. He sat down next to Theo, his eyes shining quite brightly. “He bought me coffee and told me to come over on Christmas.”

“That’s great,” Hermione said brightly. She was grateful that her Santa duties ended on Christmas Eve, so she could still have a chance to spend time with the Weasleys at the Burrow. Though, now that she thought about it, it could get rather awkward this year. She and Ron had decided to take some time off from their relationship, and after she had caught Ron ogling at Lavender, she wasn’t sure she wanted it to resume.

It wasn’t Ron’s fault; she didn’t blame him. The two of them were just completely different, and over the course of their relationship, they had tried to make it work so many times. However, they just wouldn’t fit together. It felt nice when they were together, but now that Hermione thought about it, it was more like a brother sister type of love than a lover’s type.

Tom came in last, which was surprising since he was always exceedingly early. What made her even more suspicious was that he came in through the wrong door. He caught her looking and smirked at her, as if he knew something that she didn’t, and sat himself down next to Regulus. The latter, who looked pretty cheerful, greeted him with a huge smile. Tom nodded so slightly that it was possible that Hermione just imagined it.

She used Legilimency on each of them for a brief moment. There wasn’t much she could do anyways; even if she did find a heinous crime that they had committed, they were the only four people left. It was by rule that she had to choose four people, no less and no more. And since she had already dismissed everyone else, there was no way to get them back; perhaps she ought to have waited before throwing out a heavy charm like the Patronus.

They weren’t _pleased_ , of course, but they all complied without much protest. She kept it as short as she could. She saw Theo kissing a girl, who she assumed was Daphne. She saw baby Regulus and Sirius crawling together, the two of them burping in synch. She saw Scorpius with a woman who Hermione assumed was his mother, Astoria.

For the most part, there were no big crimes in their minds. A couple of pranks here and there, but nothing too serious. However, she had seen Tom’s mind and was beginning to seriously doubt her decision to let him stay after the Patronus stage. Tom had merely smirked at her when she came out of the memory where he killed his own father. She was slightly disgusted by it, but decided to give him the benefit of the doubt.

After she was done, she had merely smiled at them and congratulated them, saying that it would be an honor to work with them until Christmas Eve. Scorpius beamed—an expression that seemed so foreign on a Malfoy’s face. Regulus grinned, and Theo smiled his usual quiet smile. Tom, of course, was not surprised at all; she had kept him even though he messed up the Patronus stage, which obviously meant that she was considering him. He merely smirked at her, and Hermione found herself smiling back.

Unfortunately, this interaction was noticed by the other three and they made fun of her for the next few minutes.

After they all left—though it took quite a while to chase Tom out—Hermione started to prepare to head out. She had got so used to it being quite messy over the last few months that now that the room was clean, it felt so out of place.

Her cell phone rang, and she dug it out of her pocket to pick it up.

“Hi Harry,”

“Hermione,” there were some muffled voices in the background before Harry’s voice came back on. “Ron and I are in the Three Broomsticks. He wants to know if you want to come along to celebrate your first successful evaluation.”

“Sure,” she said, reaching for her bag. Just because she wasn’t dating Ron anymore didn’t mean she had to avoid him. Besides, she quite missed his friendship, and the days where they could just kid around without wondering what it could possibly mean. “Give me five minutes.”

“How did it go, by the way?”

“Perfect,” Hermione said as she shut the door behind her. “Absolutely perfect.”

 


End file.
